


The Birth of the Witch

by Sunevial



Category: Discord Murder Party (Podcast)
Genre: Abuse, Blood, Blood and Gore, Dark, Disturbing Themes, Gen, Pain, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 08:42:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16889289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunevial/pseuds/Sunevial
Summary: The price of immortality is high. The price of defying a god? Higher.Standalone companion piece to the Followers.(Warning: this work is dark. The tags given here are done so for a good reason. I did this with the full knowledge of the technical owner of the other character in this piece (read: the Lieutenant) and he is 100% okay with the depictions here. Please be safe and read at your own risks.)





	The Birth of the Witch

The past few days had been as substantial as the western wind passing through a town, passing by without a care in the world or a cursory glance to the events transpiring down below. She couldn’t remember arriving at the little village in the dead of night with the Captain, nor could she recall which townsfolk she had helped break into a murderer as she watched another game and played the part of the diligent helper. But she remembered the child, oblivious to the death surrounding them as the village was burned to the ground. She remembered the screams from her own mouth, directed at the one woman she never should have raised her voice at, as she made clear this was never part of the deal.

She remembered her arm arcing through the night air and the sharp strike that pierced the chaos and echoed through the empty streets.

The Murder God slowly brushed the red mark forming on her cheek, bright against her pale skin and almost glowing in the lantern light. All the chaos around them fell away as she turned back to look at her, eyes burning a hole through what little courage remained in her body. “Lieutenant,” she said, her voice as calm as the wind before a roaring storm, being held back by nothing more than sheer willpower and the knowledge of what was about to come next.

The word had barely left Her lips when two hands sized Witch’s arms and pinned them behind her back. There hadn’t been a whisper, a footfall, a rustle of clothing, nothing to indicate that someone was now behind her and forcing her to look at the bloodstained dirt beneath her feet. She didn’t so much as wiggle, her heart not willing to risk pounding against her ribcage and give either eldritch being any ideas. So this was it. This was how decades of enduring punch after blow after experimental procedure ended, with her doing the one thing that would ensure death being the most merciful of the coming options.

“You know what, it’s about time you had your turn with her,” Murder God continued as more of the fire in her gaze moved into her voice. “Finish the job. See if this one manages to survive the final star. And do whatever else you feel like in the process.”

Steeling her mind as best as she could, a small whimper nevertheless escaped her lips as the dusty brown lanes beneath her feet became an endless pit of red strings before she could so much as blink. She barely had enough time to process the change in scenery before she was hurled with about as much force and care as one would give to a sack of flour, freefalling for a good few seconds before crashing into a tangled web of crimson. At some point between the two events, her simple riding dress had vanished, leaving her just with a two pieces of cloth covering her chest and waist. Part of her wanted to laugh at the fact her dignity was still in tact, part of her she immediately squashed back into the recesses of her mind.

It wouldn’t matter for very long, anyways.

A sharp wing flap pierced her eardrums. She looked up, not even attempting to hide her shaking limbs and torso. Lieutenant was hovering just out of her reach, surrounded in a thin purple haze that made his wings glint like stars, their light cold and unsympathetic to mortals worlds away. He wore nothing more than simple peasant clothing, dark and made with just enough cloth to keep out the elements. His eyes were narrowed into slits, the markings of a sneer creeping up at the edges of his lips. There was no dagger in hand, no sword at his side, no blade that she could see on him. He didn’t need them. Not this time.

Witch carefully pushed on the strings, using what little strength she had left to at least do something other than lie down helplessly. “I’m…I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice no louder than a breath.

 **“You know better than to plea for mercy on ears that will not listen, Witch,** ” he snarled, reaching out and plucking a length of string out of the infinite web. “ **If you were truly sorry, you would have stayed your hand.** ”

“I know…I know,” she whimpered, casting her eyes back down into the endless abyss below.

“ **Look at me,** ” he commanded, his voice echoing with dissonant whispers through her skull and making her want to gouge her ears out to make it stop. She snapped her head back up, watching as he took the string into both hands and tied a single knot into the end. “ **You have been here before at the hands of Old Priestess.** ”

“Y-yes…” she stammered, swallowing down the bile rising in her throat as memories of the fox-like woman flashed before her eyes. The endless games of hide and kill, the long drawn out claw marks etched into her back, almost playful tone and bored expressions as she made her scream for days on end. At some point, she had started laughing through the pain, grinning and making joking remarks as her flesh was scored and her eyes began dripping blood without end. It helped take her mind off of the horrors…or maybe it was a sign that Old Priestess’ tactics had truly broken her. Hard to tell anymore.

“ **Then you should have learned to know your place,** ” he sneered, snapping his fingers together. The web collapsed under her as the red strings wove up and around her limbs, digging into her flesh as she now dangled like a puppet spread out on a peg. She screamed as the threads knotted into loops, tightening until her arms and legs went numb and started swelling against the restraints. Though she knew better, she pulled against the strings in agony, only to shriek as they broke through her skin. Warm blood began trickling down her arms and legs, pooling in the cracks and crevices in the swollen skin before dripping off her body and down into the darkness below. The world blurred over and she dropped her chin to her chest.

Lieutenant’s hand shot out and grabbed the top of her head, forcing her to look up and into his eyes. They were just the same as ever, ice blue with nothing else she could see behind them. No feelings. No emotions. No sympathy. Nothing that could ever be mistaken as human. “You stay conscious.”

She gasped, trying to get air into her lungs to fight off the call of the land of dreams. It felt like her throat was full of glass, but she eventually forced a breath. Then another. And another until the world went back into focus and she was able to meet his gaze again. “I…I am,” she croaked out.

“The throws of sleep will give you no comfort here,” he said, taking a string and immobilizing her head. Seemingly satisfied with his handiwork, he vanished for a split second, reappearing a ways away and seated between some low hanging strings. With cold efficiency, he took the length of string in his hand and severed it from the line. It immediately turned pitch black. “Remind me, what did you promise the Captain?”

“M-my life…” she whispered, shrieking as the strings constricted at the falsehood.

“ **Do not lie to me,** ” he seethed, nearly growling under his breath.

“Loyalty! I gave her my loyalty!” she cried. The strings loosened a touch and she tried to keep the tears from welling up, feeling more blood drip down her limbs.

“Better,” he replied, carefully pressing the string into a small circle. It began melting under his fingers, molding and fusing together until the individual strands were nowhere to be seen. “We both know what that entails, yes?”

“To…to do her bidding…without question…” she stammered, letting out a deep shaky sigh and balled a hand into a fist. The strings around her wrist tightened and she let out a low hiss, giving up on trying that method again. “And that things like m-morals and…human feelings get in the way of…doing just that.”

“Innocence does not excuse anyone from the games, Witch. That was made rather clear when you were playing,” he said, glancing up from his work. “But since you seem to be rather self aware, I trust this issue will not be a problem in the future?”

There was a long stretch of silence filled with nothing more than the irregular beating of her heart.

“N-no…” she finally whispered.

“Hm,” he said, leaning his back up against a string. “You should be dead.”

“I…I know.”

“It was the Captain’s decision to turn you into one of her chosen few and not confine you to the games for all of eternity after having the gall to cheat.”

“I know I am very…lucky,” she sighed, relaxing her muscles to try and relieve some of the tension spreading all across her body. It did about as much as she expected, making her knees creak and crack against the strain. She stifled a moan.

“You know also the price of immortality is high for mortals,” he continued, fanning his wings out to their full length. A small amount of purple energy pulsed out of his wings warbling through the air and washing over her battered body. Even though she couldn’t turn to look, she knew that faint red lines criss crossed underneath her skin, not unlike the strings binding her in place. “If you hadn’t learned already from the strings she has been placing into that shell you call a body.”

Witch shuddered, her eyes falling on the little shape now resting in his open palm. What little warmth in her body vanished into the void, and she bit back a scream. There it was. The final string. It had to come someday; she had known this from the day she had looked the Murder God in the eye and made the deal. Seeing it, though…well, it wasn’t like anyone was prepared to face down the materialized reality of losing your last shred of humanity. Blinking away the tears at the corners of her eyes, she let out a long sigh. “I…I know I d-don’t have…any right t-to ask this of you…”

“You are very correct, Witch, you do not,” he said, taking the small disk in his hands and fashioning points of a star into the sides.

“B-but could you…get it over with quickly?” she asked, feeling her entire body trembling.

Lieutenant looked up from his work, the disc now resembling a small four pointed star, glowing with a dark light that hurt to look at for too long. “Unlike the Captain or Old Priestess, I do not find pleasure in doing this to you,” he said, slowly flapping his wings until they were once again just inches from each other. “I am simply carrying out Her will. To do any more would be needlessly excessive.”

“Th-thank you,” she whispered.

He cupped one hand on her cheek, tilting her head so she was once again looking him in the eyes. The sneer and purple haze from before was gone, replaced instead with a cool and especially calm visage of a being who had seen her kind rise and fall with the changes of the world and had killed almost as many in that time. It wasn’t supposed to be kind or comforting; the opposite really. The lack of visible rage did not make him any less dangerous than before. But at the very least, it was a face she remembered.

Something cold hovered just over her collarbone. She didn’t dare look away, taking the last few breaths she could muster without breaking her windpipe. Her heart was up in her throat, her entire body shivering like a pine needle in the dead of winter as she strained against the strings holding her fast. Conjuring up a weak smile from some place in her twisted soul, she let out all of the air out of her lungs with a breathy laugh. “Go ahead…do…your worst.”

A small smile twinged at the corners of his mouth as he plunged the star into her chest.

She didn’t remember the pain so much as she remembered fire and ice swirling through her bloodstream, battling against her flesh and bones for dominance while using slash and burn tactics against everything else. Both far too aware of the air in her lungs and feeling like she was trapped beneath endless layers of earth, she didn’t know whether to curl up into a ball or stretch her limbs as far as they would go. Except she couldn’t move, couldn’t thrash, couldn’t fight as a second sharp pain pierced her chest, this one far less magical. All she could do was scream, scream with a voice that morphed from something human to something entirely not as her soul burned up like a star and tumbled into darkness.

* * *

Maybe it was an eternity later. Maybe just a few minutes. But eventually, the world stopped spinning and her stomach stopped turning and the red glaze fell from her vision. Groaning, Witch put a hand to her head, equally surprised to find she could move once again and that she in fact still had both body parts in one piece. Blinking away the remaining fog, she looked around in a daze. She was still in the Void, sitting upright with her back up against a small web of strings. Her arms and legs were dotted with dark red scars, but any recent damage was nowhere to be seen. Looking down at her chest, she found a small black star now etched into the area just above a large gaping wound in her sternum that was slowly knitting itself together.

“Did…did you _stab_ me?” she asked incredulously, knowing there was no way she was now alone in this hellscape. As the words left her lips, she blinked. Her voice was…higher? And where did that sass come from?

“I had to test if it worked one way or another,” Lieutenant said with a smirk, appearing just to her left and absentmindedly twirling a bloodied dagger through his fingers. “Considering you and I are once again speaking to each other on comparatively equal terms, I think it’s safe to say it did.”

“Still, that’s kind of rude to do without asking,” she mumbled, grabbing a string and hoisting herself up off of the ground. Letting out a long breath, she gingerly stuck out a foot and took a step on the springy web. Then another. She bounced up and down, stretched out her arms, cracked her neck a little. Nothing made any weird noises or bended in ways it shouldn’t, even if she felt a little more stiff than she had before…that happened. In theory, everything still worked. That was a good start.

“Witch, may I indulge a question?” Lieutenant asked, watching her antics with a raised eyebrow.

“Sure Lieutenant,” she replied, cracking each of her fingers and toes individually and wiggling them experimentally.

“I was under the impression that mortals prefer cover up their undergarments as soon as they possibly can, not exercise in them.”

She froze and looked down at the rest of her body, feeling warmth finally return to her cheeks in one fell swoop.

“Why did you take off my clothes!?!” she shouted, wrapping her hands around her chest.

“I assumed you did not want them sullied during that stint,” he replied, reaching through the curtain of strings and pulling out a dress. “Was I wrong in that assumption?”

She crossed the gap in three strides and snatched it out of his hands, slipping it over her head with nothing more than a distressed sputter. She gave him the largest glare she could muster up in her still recovering body. “We never speak of this again.”

Lieutenant’s smirk widened a touch. “Oh this is going to be interesting.”


End file.
